


I've Got All This Ringing In My Ears And None On My Fingers

by ShowtheWorldtheThunder



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: Angst, Gen, Sad sad very sad I'm sorry, Song Fic (Kinda), Suicide, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-04
Updated: 2014-06-04
Packaged: 2018-02-03 09:54:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1740380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShowtheWorldtheThunder/pseuds/ShowtheWorldtheThunder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"the truth hurts worse than anything i could bring myself to do to you."</p>
            </blockquote>





	I've Got All This Ringing In My Ears And None On My Fingers

He pushes up the windowsill and sits on it, lets his feet hang out the window of his 42nd floor hotel room. Feels the New York wind, takes in the New York sounds. The others are in separate hotel rooms - they won't know until it's too late. His note is peeking out under the door so they don't ask questions. He hangs onto the gaudy hotel curtains and feels like he has all the time in the world. He takes a deep breath, tucks his head under the window and outside, and is face-to-face with his fate.

* * *

 

Patrick can't sleep. He and Pete had had an argument earlier that day - Pete had gone a little too far with a joke, and Patrick lost his temper, they fought. Pete punched Patrick in the face, choked him against a wall - Patrick kicked him in the nuts and pulled his hair. It was typical. This time, though, it was different - it was the first time they'd fought without making up, without hugging and letting bygones be bygones.

Patrick has to be sure Pete is okay, wants to make up with his best friend, so he leaves his hotel room before checking his clock - 3 AM. He's exhausted, but Pete's bound to be awake. He takes Pete's second key - they'd given each other their room keys - and exits his room quietly.

He approaches Pete's room down the hall and knocks three times in a specific rhythm, their special knock. "Pete?" He says quietly. "It's me. I'm sorry."

* * *

 

Part of him hears the knock, wants to climb back in and run to the door, take his best friend in his arms and forget that he ever wanted this. But part of him knows he'll never understand - and he doesn't want him to worry the rest of his life. He'll forget about him with time, he knows it.

But the knocking stops, and he hears the slipping of paper - he's reading the note. He should take that as his cue, let his feet fall - but he doesn't. He sits and waits for some kind of response.

* * *

 

Patrick notices a small piece of hotel memo paper stuck under the door, and he slips it out to read it, grumbling to himself about how ridiculous Pete can be, expecting some sort of half-assed apology on paper.

He never could've been prepared for what he was about to read.

Poetry.

"you're a canary i'm a coal mine  
cause sorrow is just all the rage  
take one for the team  
you all know what i mean  
  
and i'm so sorry but not really  
tell the boys where to find my body  
new york eyes chicago thighs  
pushed up the window to kiss you off  
  
do you remember the way i held your hand?  
under the lamp post and ran home  
this way so many times  
i could close my eyes

the truth hurts worse than anything i could bring myself to do to you."

He has to process this. Think hard and analyze Pete's words in a way only he could.

He doesn't like the conclusion he comes to. "Pete." He says urgently. "Pete, let me in. Is this what I think it is?"

After a few moments of silence, a soft voice replies from far beyond the door. "I'm sorry, Patrick."

Patrick fumbles his hand into his pocket and quickly pulls out his room key - Pete must've forgotten. He unlocks the door and comes face to face with his best friend halfway out the window.

" _Pete_." Patrick gasps, his breath catching. He runs over and Pete puts up a hand to stop him. He doesn't look him in the eyes, just numbly stares at the ground so far below.

"Don't."

Patrick grips the memo paper tightly, crumpling it against his fingers.

He repeats himself.

"Is this what I think it is?"

"You probably don't understand it like you should."

"What do you mean?"

"The last stanza."

Patrick looks at the paper again, smooths it out and reads the last stanza as prompted. It takes him a minute or two to catch on.

"You love me." He states coldly.

"Yeah. Just remember that."

"Pete, you don't want this."

Silence.

"I do."

Patrick's eyes are watering. "Why?"

"Because I know you'll never love me back."

Silence.

Patrick doesn't know how to reply.

"I'm sorry, Patrick."

He scoots forward, buckles his knees, and accepts his decided fate.

* * *

 

He feels the rush of death. The adrenaline of entering the next life.

Then it stops.

A hand's gripping his wrist tightly, and he hangs, his body slamming into the side of the building.

He looks up. Patrick.

"Let go." He says, tears in his eyes.

"No, Pete. I'm not letting you fucking die." Patrick replies.

"Let go or I will."

" _No._ "

"Why  _not_?"

Silence.

"Because I love you, too."

His heart crumbles. The world bleeds around him and he hates himself for ever thinking his love would stay unrequited.

"I mean it, Pete."

He regrets his decision. He doesn't want to die anymore.

He doesn't reply.

* * *

 

Patrick tries his damnedest to pull him up. Pete's a small, thin guy, but boy, is he heavy.

He's sweating profusely and Pete's skin is cold. "Come on, Pete, work with me, here," Patrick grumbles as he pulls.

He gets Pete's elbow through the frame before his grip starts slipping.

"Fuck. Fuck, Pete, help me, I'm losing my grip."

Fingers grip at the windowsill, but slip.

Patrick's crying.

He begs Pete to keep trying.

His grip slips again.

Patrick is tired and sweaty and emotional.  _His_ grip slips.

"Patrick-" He hears, and Pete's out of his hands.

Tears are flowing incessantly as he looks out the window.

" _PETE_."

He watches his best friend - his...love. Fall. 42 stories to his death.

The distant, sickening splat, on top of his tears, sends him to the bathroom. He throws up again and again.

His best friend is gone, and it's all his fault.

* * *

 

Patrick cries so hard during recording the next week that he has to take five breaks before he can compose himself.

"I've Got All This Ringing In My Ears And None On My Fingers" is Fall Out Boy's last single before they break up. The title, a quote of Pete's when he was hyped up on meds.

After the split, he stays close with the others, but he's lonely. The guilt eats away at him daily until he can't take it any longer.

He calls Andy and Joe and apologizes. Hangs up before they can ask what for.

"I'm coming, Pete." He whispers softly as he gets up on the chair placed in his lonely apartment and places his belt around his neck.

Then he hangs himself.


End file.
